Unconscious Will
by Resident Goddess
Summary: One-shot. Draco needs to talk to Hermione. She doesn't feel like listening. D/Hr.


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Unconscious Will  
By: Resident Goddess  
Rated: PG

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its corresponding characters and elements belong to JK Rowling and not I. This story does. 

Summary: Draco needs to talk to Hermione. She doesn't feel like listening. D/Hr

A/N: The only pairings in the HP universe that I approve of are: H/D, D/Hr, an occasional D/R and R/Hr, SB/RL, JP/RL, and SS/RL…and of course FW/LJ, and OW/PW. I can not STAND H/G, D/G, H/Hr, SB/JP, SS/SB. Especially the H/Hr. Just no. Don't know why I decided to tell you that…please don't flame me because I decided to share it with you. Please REVIEW!! P.s. It's 10:00pm. Please ignore this if occasionally it doesn't make sense. One-shot. Very short.

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"She is right in there, sir."

"Thank you."

Draco tripped over the slight incline in the floor as the tile gave way to carpet. He saw her immediately, she was the only one in the room, and she didn't look at him as he entered. She didn't even look at him as he sat down, the chair making a faint swishing sound as it was pulled across the carpet. It made a creaking sound as his 20-year-old body eased into it with the grace that he was so well known for. 

"I know you're mad at me." He said, her face was turned from him, and she didn't bother looking his way. The sound of his voice didn't make her flinch. "I'm sorry, I should have told you that I was going with Potter to the Riddle House." He stopped and looked down at his hands. There was a faint beeping in the room, but he ignored it. 

"He needed my help. He told me that he couldn't do it alone, and since we were friends--now--then he wouldn't want anyone else to do it. It was right after Weasley broke his leg that he asked…otherwise I'm sure he would have asked him. And I said yes…I didn't even think about what you would think--what you would say.

"I think that you know how sorry I am, otherwise you would slap me again," He chuckled bitterly and lifted up his head to gaze at her face, still turned away from him. The shuffling outside the door was loud in his eardrums, and the beeping was starting to get to him. 

"Anyway, Potter--Harry told me to tell you what happened. He said you would want to know. I don't think that you should live it, but he said that it would make you feel better to know how we got away. I'm going to have a nice scar though…right on the inside of my arm where he--took the blade and cut me. Bled for a long time, Potter was worried I would die. But like I told you before I went, I wouldn't leave you behind.

"But you've left me behind, haven't you? I just want your forgiveness, and then I'll go on my way, with closure so to say. I won't stop coming to see you because I don't want you out of my life. But if you can't live with me, then I will try to make you happy. Anything for you.

"Potter said that you would be angry with him as well. You aren't though, are you?" He said, getting up and walking to the window. She still wasn't looking at him, and he sighed and touched the cool glass. The snow outside fell heavily, and he stared out into the busy street.

"Terrible place you got here," He said and laughed under his breath, knowing that it didn't matter with his facial expressions now, she wouldn't see them anyway. "Noisy as hell, smelly. That annoying beeping. But you've got some nice decorations." He touched a vase of flowers sitting on a table. "Those ones were from me. Suppose you know that, though, maybe why they were put over here, eh? Out of the reach of any sun that might poke through the clouds?

"What I came here to say was, like earlier, I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me, because I don't know if I can live in a world without you." 

He sat down again and took her hand. It was limp in his own, and he studied the white bracelet. "You can't stay like this forever. I love you. Come back to us, Hermione. Please."

The beeping kept going. He looked up at the sound. A small black monitor had jetting green lines going up and down. Up, down, up. The room smelled clean and of medicine. It was white, the door was covered with a thin curtain. White, too. An IV ran into Hermione's right arm, and her hair framed her face. Her eyes were closed.

The lights were dim. What was the need for lights when you were in a coma?

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[End]

A/n: Lame, I know. Review anyway, please.


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